


Small Wooden Dog

by GilliganGoodfellow



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Non-Sexual Age Play, Reminiscing, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Soft Vesemir (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow
Summary: Bleidd is a friend to little wolves.But now the winters come and go, and there are no more friends.
Relationships: Eskel & Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel & Vesemir (The Witcher), Lambert & Vesemir (The Witcher)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 71
Collections: Witcher Whump Week 2020





	Small Wooden Dog

The small wooden dog explores the Instructor’s tower, wheels clicking as they hit each step.

“Daniel?” Rennes says, fondly. “I told you to stay in your room.”

“I’m hungry?” Daniel says, pulling on the wooden dog's lead with frustration.

“I’ll get you something from the kitchen.” Rennes nods. “Go wait in your room, Dan. And pick Bleidd up. The steps will damage his wheels.”

Daniel picks the small wooden dog up, and carries him in his arms. 

_The door opens, but this time Rennes is alone as he comes into the room. With a sad smile on his face, he lifts Bleidd up from the floor and puts him on the shelf._

_"Daniel can't play with you anymore."_

* * *

The small wooden dog sits on a boys lap, being petted over and over. 

Lachlan smiles, and holds up a piece of meat to the wooden dog’s mouth, making nibbling sounds as he does so.

“Is that nice, Bleidd?” Lachlan says, laughing as he pets the dog again.

_The dog is left on the bed, and that is where he is sitting when Rennes comes alone into the room. There is a sad smile on his face as he lifts Bleidd up and puts him on the shelf next to a child’s painting,_

_A dog running in a field._

_"Lachlan is gone, little friend."_

* * *

“But you played with him yesterday! It’s my turn now.”

“Play with the blocks.”

“I want to play with Bleidd.”

“Mikhail.” Vesemir says, sternly. “Let Alexi play with Bleidd now.”

“But he’s mine.”

“Or he goes in a cupboard and no one plays with him.” Vesemir crosses his arms.

“No, it’s alright.” Alexi shakes his head. “Please don’t put him in a dark cupboard.”

Alexi sits on the floor with the blocks. After a moment, he turns to see that the small wooden dog is now sitting on the floor beside him.

“I’m sorry.” Mikhail says. 

_A new winter comes, and an older Mikhail slowly takes the small wooden dog down from the shelf._

_“Alexi won’t be able to play with you this year.” He whispers, swallowing back tears._

* * *

The small wooden dog runs around the room, wooden wheels rattling against the stone floor. 

Markus giggles as he stops by the bed and climbs up onto it. 

“Jump up, Bleidd.” He says, pulling the wooden dog onto the bed beside him. 

_Vesemir finds the dog sat on the windowsill, looking out over the mountains. Sighing, he lifts Bleidd up and puts him on the shelf before quietly closing the door on the empty bedroom._

* * *

The small wooden dog sits alone on the shelf. 

Winters come and go, but there are no more friends.

* * *

* * *

Vesemir unlocks the door to the Instructor’s tower and turns sideways, inviting Eskel and Lambert to enter in front of him. The entrance hall is more like a living room, with shelves of books and comfortable chairs. Vesemir leads them through this to a staircase that lines the walls, and as they climb they pass empty bedrooms, all left as they were when the Instructors woke on their last morning alive. 

Vesemir doesn’t live in the tower anymore. He moved into the witcher’s dormitory after the pogrom, and Eskel can imagine why as he looks through one of the ajar doors. 

There is a book on the desk, a leather strap marking the page. A book that would never be finished. 

Pyjamas folded on the end of the bed that would never be worn again.

A room frozen in time.

“I’m sorry.” Eskel says. 

Vesemir nods, but otherwise doesn’t reply.

“Why are we here, old man?” Lambert asks, his voice harsh but the hint of nervousness there for those who know him well. 

“I want to show you a secret.”

“What secret?” 

Partway up the stairwell they come to another door, this one decorated with an elvish markings that Eskel doesn’t recognise. 

Vesemir rests his hand on the door, and smiles. 

“This room has so many happy memories.” He says, quietly. “A rare thing in Kaer Morhen.”

Lambert looks at Eskel, then back at Vesemir. “What’s in there?”

Vesemir lowers his hand, and reaches for the key in his pocket.

A fire has been lit in the bedroom, behind a metal grating dense enough to keep out curious fingers. In the middle of the room is a box of coloured blocks and wooden toy soldiers. 

There’s a king sized bed in the corner covered in bright blankets. A large washtub with soaps and children’s bath toys neatly arranged beside it. Shelves of picture books and art supplies. 

A small window, barred and impossible to open, looks out into the mountains. It is through this window that Lambert looks.

“Go ahead.” Vesemir whispers, resting a hand on his back. “It is what this room is for.”

Lambert looks at Vesemir, seeing none of the judgement or barbed amusement that he fears. Nothing but fond acceptance. 

He is still for the longest time, looking at the mountains. Then he turns away from the window and sits on the floor, picking up the wooden blocks and starting to build a tower with them.

Eskel looks at the painting hanging above the mantelpiece, all the work of a child’s hand. Flowers. Kaer Morhen. And a dog running in a field.

“Were these made by a Witcher?”

“Lachlan.” Vesemir says, quietly. “Did you think that Lambert was the first Witcher like him? The path is a difficult life for us, we find what helps us to survive. Or we die.” Vesemir rests a hand against one of the framed paintings. “And for some witchers, they found this.”

“Eskel, look.”

Eskel looks round, and nods as he observes the completed tower. “That’s good work, Lamb. It looks very strong.”

Lambert smiles, and picks up the wooden soldiers, arranging them as guards around his creation. 

“Rennes was the best at spotting them, those who benefited from such comfort. And this is where we would bring them.” Vesemir says. “Each winter, after the path. This would be _their_ room for as long as they needed it. For a short while we had two at the same time, Mikhail and Alexi. We called them the twins.” He chuckles as he reminisces. “They once had a water fight during their bathtime. Have you ever seen a water fight with aard?” 

Eskel laughs. 

“We had to replace the mattress.” 

His expression softens, and he holds up the key. “This room is Lambert’s now. And it will remain the secret that it has always been. Because not everyone understands this world.”

“A secret.” Eskel nods. “I promise.”

Vesemir walks over to a shelf above the bed, turning back with something now tucked under his arm.

“Now, young man. There is someone very special I want you to meet.” He kneels down next to Lambert and holds out a small wooden dog. “This is Bleidd.”

* * *

The small wooden dog moves slowly along the stone floor, wheels squeaking slightly. On his back sits a stuffed cat, astride the wooden dog as if Bleidd is its horse.

“Good boy, Bleidd.” Lambert says as they complete a circuit of the room.

Sat by the fire, Eskel watches the smiling Lambert guide the dog around another circuit, and he can’t help feeling that the squeaking wheels sound like a puppy yapping with joy.


End file.
